Life As We Know It
by los.kav
Summary: An on-going series of shorts and scenes from the Tintin universe. Prompts accepted. Mostly Modern!Tintin but you never know.
1. u and me

**"U" and "Me"**

_"Everyone knows when you make an assumption, it makes an ass outta you and umption."_

- Samuel L. Jackson

* * *

It was two days after the Maritime Gallery's triumphant opening night before the subject was raised. The Captain had contemplated raising it himself, but in the end he'd decided to let it come up itself, naturally. Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he believed that Tintin was coming to the same conclusion: that he, Tintin, should move into Marlinspike permanently. Nothing concrete had been said of course, but there were one or two hints. For a start, Tintin had made a couple of comments: how beautiful the estate would be in summer, and how much of a pleasure it would be to walk Snowy there; how nice the house would look when the Captain's interior designer was finished, and they were both in agreement that the period wallpaper was _very _tasteful; he had declared that he couldn't wait to read his way through the Hall's library. In fact, he'd already started. It had rained solidly for the last few days and he'd spent most of that time curled up with a thick book and Snowy, his constant companion.

So on the third morning, when Tintin finally raised the subject, the Captain's face fell in disappointment.

"I was thinking," Tintin said casually as he buttered a slice of toast, "there is a train leaving tomorrow afternoon at half past twelve. Would you mind giving me a lift into the train station? Or I can get a taxi, if you don't have the time. I'd walk, but, with that weather..." He took a bite out of his toast and nodded to the window. It wasn't raining yet, but the angry grey clouds that were coming in from the direction of the lake threatened otherwise.

"Train where?" the Captain asked in dismay.

"Back to Brussels?" Tintin swallowed and cocked his head at the Captain.

"Why'd you want to go there?" The Captain's face brightened a little. "If you're going back to pick up your stuff, I don't mind helping."

"No, I should probably just head home." Tintin tore off a tuft of bread and passed it down to Snowy. The little dog loved warm, buttery bread - mainly for the butter - and he took it with an audible _unk! _in his desire to eat it.

"Aw, what?" The Captain's face fell again. "I... er, I thought you... No. Never mind."

He started on his breakfast, savagely slicing a sausage in twain. Tintin watched, confused. For some reason, the man looked very unhappy. He could never hide his feelings, not really. He was rubbish at keeping things quiet. "What's wrong?" Tintin asked, worried.

"Nothing," the Captain said. He shrugged. Not meeting Tintin's gaze he continued; "I just thought you were staying, that's all."

"Oh." Tintin felt his eyes widened and realised, as the Captain finally looked up at him, that his mouth was also hanging open in surprise. The Captian's demeanor quickly changed from deeply unhappy to annoyed, his ever-present temper bubbling up to the surface. The Captain was trapped in an eternal state of simmering.

"What's that look for?" he demanded. "By thunder, it's not like I asked you to marry me."

"No, no, it's just come as a bit of a surprise, that's all," Tintin said quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation.

The Captain eyed him. "Oh aye?"

"Yes. I hadn't thought about it" -

"Oh, there's charming!" The Captain slammed down his knife and fork. "Here's me, worrying about your future and well-being, and you've not bothered to spare it a moment's thought! I'm supposed to be your guardian."

"We were a bit busy!" Tintin pointed out. "Besides, we have a plan in place: you stay at yours, I stay at mine, and the social worker cheats and gives us a tip off before she comes over. All we have to do is keep up the front and we can both go about our lives normally."

"But wouldn't it just be easier if you lived here?" the Captain asked, exasperated.

"I honestly hadn't thought about it," Tintin replied. "But that's not to say," he added hastily, "that I _won't _think about it: of course I will. I'll think about it very carefully."

"Good," said the Captain, placated. "You give it some thought."

"I will," Tintin promised.

"Weigh up the old 'pros and cons'."

"Exactly."

"And if you still feel like going back tomorrow, I'll drive you there myself."

"Tomorrow?" Tintin squeaked. He froze in place. He hated being put on the spot like this: he didn't know what to do. He'd forced himself to keep people detached from him, at arms length, and now that he didn't have to, he didn't know how to stop.

"I can't say fairer than that. What's up with you? You've a face on you like you're a rabbit caught in a pair of headlights."

"I need more time than that!"

"You what?" Now it was the Captain's turn to look surprised.

"I need more time."

"It's a pretty easy decision to make: you either want to live here or you don't!"

"But what about weighing the 'pros' and 'cons'?"

"Pro: it's nice here," the Captain said promptly. "Pro; you won't be rattling around that flat of yours on your own. Pro: we can have a right laugh here."

"It's not that simple for me," Tintin insisted gently. "Captain, I have a life in Brussels. I have a job based there" -

"Pooh! You could work here just as easily as you can from there."

"Probably, but in the city I'm in the center of everything. Besides, I was already working on something before I even met you. A case about counterfeiting had just handed itself to me on a silver platter, but I've been so busy since then I haven't had a chance to follow it up."

The Captain, his face furious, went back to his breakfast. An uncomfortable atmosphere settled on the table. Even Snowy looked unhappy: he hated arguments and raised voices unsettled him.

After a short pause, the Captain muttered; "Blistering barnacles, you'd swear it was against the law for a legal guardian and his ward to share the same bloody house. Pretty sure that's the law," he added sarcastically.

Tintin sighed. "Captain, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you" -

"Me?" the Captain snapped. "I'm not upset."

"Annoy you, then," Tintin soothed. "I didn't set out to annoy you. You know how much I respect you, and I think a lot of you. I just need some time, that's all. I've been alone for so long that it's a huge change for me." He eyed the Captain's still-dissatisfied face and pulled his ace out of his sleeve. "You know I've never had a family before." He watched a guilty look fleetingly cross the Captain's face and knew he'd won this hand. He felt a little bad for the manipulation, but it wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last time either. "I'm not quite Batman yet," he added, hoping to lighten the mood.

The Captain looked horrified. "Of course you're not! I'm the debonair, older, millionaire playboy; you're the gimpy-looking, sarcastic orphan."

"You can't be saying that _you're _Batman in this scenario?" Tintin asked, amazed.

"Of course I'm Batman! You're Robin."

"Pffft! I'm pretty sure Batman's the one that solves all the crimes."

"Yeah, but I can't pass for the Boy Wonder. Besides, your legs would look better in tights than mine."

Tintin laughed and conceded the point. "Nestor will be Alfred, of course. I wonder who Professor Calculus is?"

The Captain snorted. "Lord knows. He probably misheard and ended up in something called _FatCans. _There you go: Cuthbert's in a porno movie. He's now a porn star. Happy now?"

Tintin laughed harder and settled back to finish his toast, content to let the Captain crack jokes and make observations on the newspaper. He forced the idea of moving into Marlinspike from his mind. There would be plenty of time to think about that later. Well, eventually, anyway.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Welcome to a series of short stories and scenes based on my version of Tintin. I'm doing this for a couple of reasons: 1 - I'm half-way through one Tintin story, and almost finished another, but RL has started kicking my ass and I don't have any time to devote to them. Because they're full 'books' they need a lot of thought and time, and I just can't do it right now, but I feel bad for not updating anything at all. Yes, I could put the stories that I've already started up, and update them one chapter at a time over a few months, but things are so up in the air right now that I'm not confident, at the end of the months it would take to upload what I have, that I'll have finished them. I'm just too busy. All I have time for is short stories.

2 - a lot of people have asked "will you do this book?" or "will you do a scene with this?" and to be honest: I don't know. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out a way to update stuff like, say, _The Blue Lotus,_ and I can't do it. The main politics with the earlier books have changed completely since the time they were first published, but those situations are usually what drives the stories and the atmosphere/tone of the book. Removing those political and social situations would strip the books of a little bit of magic. That being said, there's scenes in those books that, taken by themselves in a 'short', could be updated (as long as nobody asks any questions about how one or two scenes with a modern setting fit into the original books *cough*).

3 - character development. And story development. By doing shorts that are set between the various books, I can develop my writing and show the growth of the characters. They go from point A to point Z in my stories, and because I'm skipping books in-between it's harder to see _how _exactly they developed the way they did, and why the relationships of all the characters have changed and evolved in the way they have. Plus, I treat the 'lesser' characters appallingly. Yes, I'm working on something where the Captain has a reduced role and Calculus comes to the front, along with Chang, but I'm finding it harder to write for them than, say, Captain Haddock, because the Captain is my favorite character (as well as Tintin, of course). If I do short stories, I can write entertaining rubbish for Nestor and Cuthbert that helps develop their characters in my own head, which means any story I tackle that includes them will feel more _real _instead of a bad knock-off.

Finally, I am accepting prompts. So any of those scenes you want to see, from any of the books, or any scenario from angst to comedy to drama to action, I'm up for writing it. There are no silly suggestions, and I will see every suggestion as a challenge. If you suggest an idea, when it (eventually) gets written you will be credited. If you see someone else's suggestion and want to see it done in another way (for example: Tintin is ill: Angst! and Tintin is ill: Comedy!) I'll do that too. I have a lot of readers and you guys have been great: I think it's time I acknowledge that.

Enjoy the series! With any luck, a real book will pop up one of these days too, but until that happens at least you'll have this. :)

ps: pretty much everyone loved the quotes at the start of Alpha-Art, so they're back.


	2. A Man Should Know His Place

**A Man Should Know His Place**

_"A gentleman is someone who does not what he wants to do, but what he should do."_

- Haruki Murakami

* * *

He wasn't wallowing: far from it. He just enjoyed watching football in the dark, the curtains pulled against the hateful light of the day, in his pants and beloved Leeds United jersey. So what if his dressing gown was starting to look a little tatty? A man was entitled to dribble his egg if he liked, wasn't he? And so what if he used his sleeve to wipe the butter knife? That was _normal. _No man had any right to be formal in his pajamas. Well, pants, but he slept in them just the same, so the point was still valid.

Bloody Nester and his _Looks. _

The man was so formal; so _starchy. _Someone had lodged a stick so far up his arse that it had taken root and grown into a ram-rod straight spine. The man constantly stood to attention, his held just _so _in insolent pride; his chin high and kept there through the combined might of disdain and a distinctly stiff upper lip; looking down his noble nose at all and sundry.

And under that look, the Captain felt _young. _And not the cool kind of young either: the devil-may-care, let's-break-the-rules kind of young. It was more like the caught-speaking-out-of-turn-on-your-first-day-of-B ig-School young. The Captain felt almost helpless, like a child, and he had to remind himself: _By thunder, NO! I am _not _a child. I am a man grown - older even than my own father was when he died, God rest him - and I will not feel like an unwelcome guest in my own house! _

The door opened. It was almost at the end of the first half, so the Captain risked a glance away from the television screen. "Yes?" he asked brusquely.

"Sir, telephone call for you." Nestor calmly approached the sofa and offered the telephone up. It was lying - _damn him! - _on a silver tray. It looked like a sacrifice to the god of communication. "It's Mr Tintin."

The Captain took the phone and resisted the urge to slip a fifty into Nestor's breast pocket. That was another thing: he always felt like tipping Nestor, but couldn't quite figure out _why. _Not that it mattered at the minute: he'd left his wallet in his trousers. "Tintin? You there?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"Anything the matter lad?" The Captain watched out of the corner of his eye as Nestor retreated wordlessly from the room. That was an exercise in futility too: he was positive that Nestor just listened outside the door anyway.

"No, No, I just called to see how you are."

"Oh, I'm fine. What about yourself? Coming up here any time soon?"

"Probably. Did you hear from the social worker?"

"Oh, aye. I meant to tell you: she'll be up in about two weeks, I think. I wrote it all down. It's on a Friday so it should be easy to organize."

"Ah, good. And, er, your other problem?" Tintin had been treated to the Captain's views on Nestor. At great length.

"Bah. He's impossible." The Captain waved his hand dismissively, though his friend couldn't see the gesture. "I'm at my wit's end. Blistering barnacles, I've never seen such... _disapproval _in all my life. And I've done some mad stuff in my time."

"I can well believe it," Tintin said honestly. "Look, I've been thinking about it: why don't you meet him half-way?"

"Half-way?" The Captain sounded outraged. "Why should I? This is my house, by thunder, and I shan't" -

"Captain, please, just hear me out. I'm not asking you to... become a country squire or anything. I'm not talking about quilted smoking jackets and monocles. I'm asking you to take a step back and look at things from Nestor's point of view."

The Captain tutted. "There you go again, being all fair-minded."

Tintin laughed. "I guess it's my curse. But Marlinspike, as you know, was in disrepair for a great many years. The old owner was too old to keep the house looking well, and didn't have the money to do any renovations or hire any staff. By the end, he was living in three or four rooms, and the rest of the house was piled high with litter and hoarded rubbish."

"How do you know that?" the Captain asked curiously.

"Nestor told me. I asked him about it shortly after you moved in. He said that when the Bird brothers bought the house, they left it up to him to set the place back to rights. He was in charge of everything, from cleaning the house itself from top to bottom to clearing the land and planning the lawns and grounds. It took him a long time to put everything right. He's worked hard bringing it from an almost-derelict wreck to a country estate."

"Huh. I suppose," the Captain said with a grunt.

"He put himself into it, heart and soul, and the first thing you did was start redecorating. All his hard work" -

"But I've the money to do it properly now!" the Captain burst out.

"I know," Tintin said soothingly. "So why not include him? He knows what a country house is supposed to look like and he's bursting with ideas. With the money to back it, you could both bring Marlinspike into the 21st century and restore it to a working country estate. And he's really not that bad once you get to know him. Frosty, yes, and definitely formal, but that will change once you get to know him and you both settle into each other's company a little more. I have every faith that he will be just as devoted to you as he was to his previous masters. But you _must _meet him half-way."

"Trust you to make sense," the Captain said sulkily.

Tintin laughed again. "I hope it all works out for you. Marlinspike could be a wonderful asset to the local community" -

"So what do country gents _do?" _the Captain asked suddenly.

Tintin was silent as he thought about it. "I'm not sure," he said at last. "I don't really know. Some donate their land a couple of times a year, for festivals and fairs and other good causes" -

"No, no, what do they _do?"_

"Honestly: I'm not sure! With all the land you have, I'm sure you could work with graduates from the farming colleges, and put in place an organic program to" -

"Horses!"

- "promote... What?"

"Classic cars. Big, fancy cars..."

"I... you've lost me."

"Hunting. Balls!"

"Hunting balls?" Tintin asked with growing alarm.

"That's what rich toffs do," the Captain declared.

"Hunt balls?" There were two scenarios running through Tintin's head. One involved a room full of well-dressed gentlemen searching for a hidden tennis ball, while the other was less whimsical. And less pleasant to think about.

"You know," the Captain said chidingly. "Hunting: horses and hounds and foxes and the like."

"Oh, running an exhausted animal into the ground before a pack of baying hounds tears it limb from limb?"

"Details, details! Coo! You've given me some great ideas, lad. Thanks, I really appreciate it." On the television screen, the picture changed from the talking heads of the football pundits in their studio to the pitch, and the players filing back out for the second half. He clamped the phone to his ear with his shoulder and searched among the cushions for the remote control. "I'll text that date to you, yeah?" he added distractedly.

"Date? What date?" Tintin asked, confused by the sudden change in the conversation.

"Blistering barnacles, Tintin, keep up, will you?" The Captain sounded amused. "That's why you rang in the first place, yes? The social worker?"

"I... Yes, but" -

"Like I said, I got it all written down somewhere," the Captain continued, interrupting his young friend. "Look, the footie's back on so I'll dig it out after and text it to you."

"Fine, but" -

"And I'll call you in the next day or so," the Captain finished.

"Yes, yes, but about the other thing," Tintin said quickly.

"Great, I'll talk to you then." The Captain hung up and took the extra precaution of turning off the wireless handset before tossing it away. It _floomp!_-ed into the cushions of an armchair and sank without a trace. _Blistering barnacles, _he thought to himself, _some people can talk for hours if you give them half a chance! _He turned the sound up on the television, and settled back, his arms folded across his chest and his feet resting comfortably on the coffee table, and waited.

Seconds ticked by, but the Captain couldn't allow himself to relax back into the match. Not yet.

The door clicked as it opened, and Nestor entered as unobtrusively as possible. He swiftly located the phone in its nest of cushions and retreated as wordlessly as he had arrived.

_Now _the Captain unwound and settled into the football. _He _must _listen outside the door, _he thought furiously. _How else would he know when I'm finished? I _know _he's listening... By thunder, I'll catch him one of these days.._

* * *

**Author's Note:** set between _Red Rackham's Treasure_ and _The Seven Crystal Balls. _The football mentioned here is actual football, not American football.

I'm half-tempted to litter this particular series with the Captain attempting to catch Nestor out. Y'know, hiding the phone or opening doors/hiding himself away in order to catch Nestor listening at the doors. And thanks for the reviews & comments.


End file.
